" 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 "
Advait Agnihotry... He was my pride.
My heart.
The reason I breathed.
But now... now for the first time in my life-I qu...
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Diya stared at the message longer than she'd ever admit, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the first three words on the glowing screen.
I am ready.
Her heart gave a solid, traitorous thump that she swore echoed in her ears. She reread those words again, and again, until the rest of the sentence blurred into meaningless shapes. The rational part of her mind whispered that maybe—just maybe—this was a dream she'd conjured up after years of quiet longing. The other part of her? That foolish, romantic, ninth-sky part? It was already building castles in the air.
Her lips curved—just a fraction—while her eyes shimmered with a strange mixture of hope and disbelief. It was a delicate, dangerous kind of happiness, the sort that could vanish if she breathed too loudly.
And then—of course—someone had to call her name.
"Diya? Are you even on this planet?"
Her trance shattered. She blinked hard, like someone waking from a too-real dream, and turned to find Rohan, her best friend, shaking her arm with the subtlety of a caffeinated squirrel.
"Oh? Yeah..." she replied, a little too quickly, dragging her composure back into place like an ill-fitted coat. Without another word, she began typing furiously, fingers tripping over the keyboard as if the phone might evaporate if she didn't reply in time.
Backspace. Type. Backspace again.
After what felt like a lifetime—but was actually three painfully long minutes—her grand, earth-shattering reply was sent:
Diya: Okay.
Typical Diya, she thought with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes.
The reply came almost instantly.
Advait: Osteria Café. 10 a.m.
Her breath left her in one long exhale she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. She pressed a hand to her chest as if to physically slow the wild beating beneath her ribs.
Rohan, noticing her borderline hyperventilation, stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. His eyes followed hers down to her phone screen, and then... he froze.
The man blinked once. Twice. Ten times. Still no comprehension.
When he finally found his voice, it was a slow, stunned murmur. "No wonder you look like you've just seen a ghost."
His expression—wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape—was almost comical. Almost.
Diya, meanwhile, kept her face carefully blank, hiding the stampede of emotions galloping inside her.
"He's not Advait," Rohan declared, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I'm convinced he's been possessed. Probably by the spirit of some love-starved virgin."
